Chapter Fifty-One Harriet
Chapter Fifty-One
Harriet
We don’t speak until we’re back on the sidewalk.
“We did it,” Nic says with wonder. “You did it.”
He lifts me off the ground, swinging me around and setting me down on the curb. It happens so fast that I barely register his arms around me before they’re gone.
I want to say something momentous, because he’s right—we really just did that, holy shit—but then our eyes meet, and whatever I was going to say slips right out of my head.
“Harriet—”
“Nic—”
“Can I go first?” I ask after a moment.
He nods.
I take a deep breath. “I care about you. A lot. What happened in New Rochelle, in George’s office—all that was real.
I’ve realized so much these past couple weeks.
I was holding on to my life in the city because…
well, because I didn’t have anything else, really.
When I lost that job, it was like I lost myself.
My identity. But after spending time with you, seeing how much you care about your family, how much you’re willing to sacrifice for them…
it makes me want more. You’re amazing, and I am so, so sorry for everything I’ve done. ”
He steps closer and grabs my hand. “Harriet.” His voice is rough and low and sends a bolt of warmth through my lower belly.
“You are the most frustrating person I have ever met, but you’re also funny, kind, and a total badass.
I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.
You’re so driven and focused and have such a big heart.
When you learned what Vicky did, you could have just kept your mouth shut and let my sister take the fall.
But you came to me. I don’t know if you see it, but you also care about the people around you—so much so that you were willing to risk your life making a deal with a Mafia boss to help them. ”
He steps forward, closing the gap between us, cupping his hand to my cheek. His fingertips caress my skin, and my breath catches.
“Harriet?”
I lick my lips. “Yes, Nic?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I smile. “Hell yes, you can.”
Our lips meet hungrily. Our tongues touch, tangle, and god, it feels so good. So right.
My hand pushes through his hair, and I pull him close, wrapping my leg around his upper thigh. His fingers slip under the waist of my jeans, fingers running along my skin. He squeezes my butt, and I moan.
I don’t care that we’re on a public street, that it’s the middle of the day, that other people could see us. I just want him—all of him—right now—
“Get a room!” someone yells.
We jump apart. Nic’s chest is heaving, my body so flushed I feel like it’s on fire.
Idling on the street is a big black Lincoln, its engine humming low.
The back window rolls down, and Tony’s head appears.
He cackles with delight. “Kidding. Get after it, you crazy kids. But fair warning: The cops like to roll through this area. No idea why, of course. But you might want to take this elsewhere.”
And with that, he’s gone.
Nic and I burst out laughing.
“No idea why cops might hang around here,” he says.
“None at all.”
He hesitates. “I guess we should head home?”
Even though all I really want to do is keep kissing him, I nod. “I’ll drive fast.”
His mouth pulls up into a smile.
Have you ever experienced a three-hour car ride with sexual tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife?
Because I sure have.
Back at his place, it’s a race to get out of the car. As soon as we do, we can’t keep our hands off each other—in the front foyer, the elevator, the hallway outside his apartment door.
Once we’re inside his place, we crash together again, this time with nothing to pull us apart.
I don’t kiss and tell, but suffice it to say, it’s amazing.